


Blessing of the Flames

by trash_devil



Category: Mogeko | Funamusea, The Gray Garden
Genre: Alcoholism, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Parental Abuse, Satanick's collection of questionable implements, Self-Harm, and he and Ivlis can have a normal relationship, but not for that get your head out of the gutter, devils swear a lot, i just want them to be happy ok, i know you wont believe me but i promise none of that is sexual, i proofread these as best i can but tell me if something's off, in which Satanick is not such a dickwad, kind of an AU, siralos and fumus are dicks, some implied incest sort of???, sunscreen as a weapon, the true dick is siralos, what is in all technicality a dildo squirtgun, wildly inappropriate use of sunscreen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2018-12-11 09:09:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 23
Words: 18,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11711295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash_devil/pseuds/trash_devil
Summary: What better way to conquer the curse of a sun god than with a night devil?But Satanick's poorly expressed love is not nearly enough, not to mention the issues of his own. And things only get more complicated with the return of a runaway son.





	1. It's a... Date?

“Lord Ivlis, someone is here to see you…”  
Rieta’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.   
“... For me?” he asked.  
“Yes, you.” Somehow it hurt to see the doubt in his eyes. “He's waiting outside.”  
“He, huh?” Ivlis said under his breath. “Alright.” He heaved himself out of his throne, swaying unsteadily on his feet from the wave of dizziness as he stood.  
Rieta held out a claw to help steady him. “A-Are you okay, milord?”   
“As okay as I'll ever be,” he said bitterly. Then he shook his head, lapsing into his usual smug and utterly false smirk. “Wonder who this mystery man could be.”   
She watched him go, brow furrowed with worry. She wanted to stop him. Because she cared? Or was she just jealous? Or both? She opened her mouth to speak, but the door to the throne room was already closing. It slammed shut like a lost opportunity.  
Rieta took a deep breath. No use lingering here. There were things she had to do.

Ivlis squinted in the fiery light that lit up his world, dim as it was since the loss of his powers. It was still unbearable compared to the darkness within the castle, which was all he had been exposed to for…. Days? Weeks? No matter.  
Even half-blinded by glare, he could make out a familiar flash of purple among the red. The exact shade that made his stomach churn with nervousness, the color that promised...something. Just what it promised, he did not know.   
He never knew what to make of that grinning devil, his insults mixed with compliments, his flirting part vulgarity and part saccharine sweetness. He never knew what part, if any, was sincere. But he certainly couldn't just walk away.

Satanick smiled when he saw Ivlis. It turned a little more uncertain as he drew closer and could smell the faint tang of blood coming off of the devil.  
“Yo! Ivlis!” he called out, pretending that he didn't notice.  
“... Satanick.”  
“Ooh, no excitement? You hurt me so! Dismissed by such a cute little cockroach~!” He laughed.   
“... Right.” Ivlis backed up a few steps, trying to keep a reasonable distance between them. But it was impossible to keep Satanick away.  
He grabbed Ivlis, more roughly than was probably necessary, drawing him close. Ivlis’s attempts to dislodge the other devil’s hand from his hip were ignored.  
“Now, my dear roach, you can't stay cooped up in your castle forever!” Satanick said brightly.  
“I do what I want,” Ivlis muttered. He looked at the ground, because he hated the few inches of extra height Satanick had that would have forced him to look up to meet the devil’s eyes.  
“Clearly that's gotten you far,” Satanick answered, making a vague gesture to Ivlis and everything around them. “Couldn't have turned out better.”   
There was no answer, but he could feel Ivlis growing dangerously warm against his arm. Power or no, a flame devil was a flame devil, and Satanick did not particularly relish the idea of both of them being suddenly on fire.  
“... Awh, c’mon, Ivliv! I'm just messing with ya. But, really, you should get out more. Can't have you getting all pasty and weak on me.”  
“If I had to go out, I wouldn't want to go with you.”  
“Too bad, roach. You're coming, like it or not.”   
Ivlis crossed his arms and finally tore his gaze away from the ground to glare up at him. “Am I?”  
“Yup. I'll make you a deal, though. If you play nice, then I will too.”  
“You? Play nice?” Ivlis snorted. “Not likely.”  
But if Satanick really did keep up his end of the bargain, then this might not be so bad. Maybe even enjoyable.


	2. A Night to Forget

Satanick whisked them away before Ivlis could even fully understand what was happening.  
Wherever he took them was far brighter than the Flame World; the difference between a candle and the sun, and it took Ivlis’ eyes even longer to adjust. When they did, he couldn't hold back a tiny squeak of shock.  
“H-H-Here?” he stammered.  
Satanick shrugged. “Why not? Your world is on fire, my world is more gloomy than you are. Not great places for going out.”  
“This is the Gray goddamn Garden! You know what I did here, right? They're gonna–… You can't be serious.” He searched Satanick’s expression. “Oh, sweet Siralos, you're serious…”  
Satanick clapped him hard on the shoulder, making him stumble forward a few steps. “Calm down. For an airhead, you're sure thinking hard! Don't strain your tiny brain. I'll cover for you, ‘kay?”  
“No. No, not ‘kay.’ Nuh-uh.” He tried to back farther away, but Satanick grabbed onto his wrist.  
“You're not going anywhere, roach,” he said, his smile turning sinister. Ivlis squirmed in his grip. And then as suddenly as he changed, he slipped back into his normal easy grin. “So stop and smell the roses!”  
As he said it, he bent over to pick one of the flowers that grew abundantly in the Gray Garden. He shoved it into Ivlis’s hand, but he never once let go of him.  
“I, uh… Thanks?” Ivlis said. He pulled away as much as he could, keeping his arm's length between them. At least Satanick didn't try to tug him back.  
“Told you to behave yourself.”  
Ivlis opened his mouth to reply, but it snapped shut when he saw a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye. The reality of where he was hit him, and thousands of different punishments at the hands of Etihw and Kcalb flashed through his mind. Fear made him want to hide behind the closest thing, which in this case was Satanick.

Satanick’s mouth curled into an amused smirk as Ivlis cowered against him. He put one arm around the devil, and for once he didn't protest.  
Kcalb glared at them both, black anger beginning to darken his expression like storm clouds rolling into clear skies. “... Why are you here?” he growled.  
“Now, now, Blackie! We're just here for some fun~!”  
“Fun?” His lips curled back into a snarl, and he pointed one finger at Ivlis. “Fun like slaughtering every demon and angel here? He should be where he belongs, burning in hell. And I'd be glad to make sure he stays there.”  
“I-I'm sorry,” Ivlis whimpered. Satanick squeezed him, murmuring something into his ear to try and calm him down, then turned his attention back to Kcalb.  
“Awh, Blackie, hasn't the poor devil had enough?”  
“Not nearly enough for what he's done.”  
Satanick’s smile vanished. “It's been more than you'd think.”  
He was thrown off by this uncharacteristic seriousness. “I… More?”  
The other devil nodded.  
Kcalb frowned. “This doesn't make any… Oh, alright, you seem like you know what you're doing. But keep him on a short leash, understand?”  
Satanick brightened immediately. “If you provide the collar, I'd be happy to oblige~” he said in a seductive purr.  
“Wha—!? No, I don't… Why would I have that!?” Kcalb sputtered. Satanick raised an eyebrow at him, and the devil flushed bright red. “I-I have things to do!” he said, and vanished in a burst of diamonds.  
Satanick giggled. “How cute. Now, my sweet fiery devil, where were we?”  
He leaned in close, so close that Ivlis could smell his breath—mint and roses, trying to cover up the smoke that filled his world and his lungs, and the faintest whiff of alcohol.  
“No…” Ivlis said breathlessly. “We were nowhere!” He shoved Satanick away.  
“Really?” A grin like a snake split his face. “Then maybe we should get somewhere…”  
Ivlis felt paralyzed, stuck staring deep into violet eyes. He wanted to move, but his body would not obey. “W-Why are you…?” he whispered.  
“Isn't it obvious, dear Ivlis?” he said, one hand caressing Ivlis’s chin. “I love you.”  
At those words, he felt a fire spark up in him. Terror, or anger, or denial, or all three. He found the will to move.

Smack.

Satanick staggered back, one hand going up to touch the stinging mark on his face. He could smell burning flesh.  
Ivlis stared at him, just as surprised as Satanick was. The tips of his claws were purple with blood. And then his eyes narrowed into glaring slits. “No, you don't,” he hissed. “You don't love me, never have and never will. No one will.”  
He took a step forward, and Satanick stepped back, still too shocked by this sudden anger to argue or fight or tease.  
“I let you do a lot of things to me, Satanick. A lot of sick, twisted things. But this? This is too far, even for you. Hurt me all you want, but don't pretend to be nice. Don't lie to me.” He snapped his fingers and disappeared in a burst of flame, even though warping all the way back home would put some serious strain on his drained powers. He didn't care.

Satanick stared blankly at the place where Ivlis had stood, marked with a ring of scorched grass. Burnt skin was peeling back from the claw marks on his face.  
In that moment, he knew that nothing he could do—no insult, no torture, no abuse—could hurt Ivlis more than those three words of confession. Nothing. He laughed joylessly, and conjured up a phone with a sweep of his hand.  
“Maekami,” he said, voice quivering with either suppressed tears or giggles, “get out the strongest stuff you have. It's been a night to forget.”


	3. Blades and Bottles

Rieta leapt back as fire suddenly flashed into existence in front of her. She squinted through the flames and smoke, trying to make out who it was warping in here.  
“Lord Ivlis…?” she asked. He was the only one she could think of that would have a reason to come here. “I was not aware that you were returning so soon…”  
The only reply she received was a rattling cough.  
“... Milord?” She leaned forward. “Is that you?”  
The air cleared. It was definitely him. He slumped against the wall in an attempt to keep himself upright. He still said nothing; only his labored breathing filled the silence.  
“Milord, you're—” she began.  
“Shut up!” he shouted with far more energy than she thought he could muster. “I don't wanna hear it!” His voice cracked like he was about to cry. He pushed himself off the wall and stormed past her, shoving her aside in the process.  
“Ivlis…” Rieta said, too quiet for him to hear. She wanted to slide to the floor and cry.  
… No. Her tears would mean nothing if she didn't at least try to stop him. She had let this happen too many times. She had let him do this again and again, and never done anything to try and fix it. She hurried after him.  
Rieta heard a door slam before she could turn the corner of the hall Ivlis disappeared down. She rushed to it, beginning to panic as she tested the doorknob and found it locked.  
“Lord Ivlis!” she called, knocking on the door. “Lord Ivlis, please!”

Ivlis heard her claws against the door and her pleas for him to come out and listen to her. He didn't want to. She would lie to him, just like everyone else who had pretended to care. No one cared about him.  
“That's one thing even an idiot like me could figure out,” he whispered to himself.  
And then his legs finally gave out. He thudded to the floor in a painful heap. Ivlis could not fight his tears any longer, but there was something far worse than sobs working its way up his throat. A familiar heat burning its way up to his mouth with the overpowering taste of blood. He slapped his hand to his mouth, both to muffle his crying and to hold back what he knew was coming.  
It came anyway. It spilled through his fingers, glowing with heat and lava, that disgusting mix of blood and vomit and gods-know-what. That liquid fire and liquid pain bubbling up inside him because, once again, he had pushed it too far.

Rieta gave up her attempts to get Ivlis to open the door, pressing her ear to its surface instead. Tears sprung into her eyes at those sounds. She knew them all too well, those sobs that devolved into gagging into horrible retching wrongness. Every one of his gasps of pain felt like a knife in her heart. If she closed her eyes, she could picture him curled up as his body rebelled against him. She could not help him, so she collapsed against the door and sobbed into her hands, feeling just as worthless as Ivlis did.  
Rieta knew that when this was over, Ivlis would have his revenge on himself. Revenge on the body and the life that betrayed him again and again. That, more than anything else, was why she cried. No word, no gesture, no kindness she could offer would ever convince him to stop. And she knew nothing could end this until the day he finally destroyed himself. That was the worst feeling of all.

She was still there when the door finally creaked open. Rieta glanced at him and felt her breath catch in her throat.  
Ivlis had burned out. She had seen him like this before, the flaming light in his eyes guttering out like a dying candle. A few rivulets of blood dripped off his chin, but most of it had already dried into rusty stains on his clothes and face. His scarves had slipped down just far enough to see that his neck was bleeding too, fresh lines of red over old scars. She reached up to fix his scarves so that it was covered, trying not to break down bawling again.  
“... Oh. Rieta,” he said. “... Thanks.” His voice rasped in his throat, raw from crying.  
“Lord Ivlis…” She took a deep breath and hastily wiped away her tears. “Let's… Let's get you cleaned up, okay?”  
He nodded. She pressed one hand to his back and let him lean against her as he walked.  
They had done this before, and they knew that one day, they would have to do it again.

 

— — — —

Satanick slumped over the bar, crooning drunken nonsense to himself. Occasionally, he would pause to stare expectantly up at Maekami, who would mumble some meaningless reply. He didn't want to risk angering Satanick through silence, and no one wanted a bar brawl with the devil.  
“Maekami, can ya b’lieve it?” he slurred. “Whaddid I do wrong?”  
Maekami paused, putting down the glass he had been polishing. “... Sir, I have no idea what you're talking about.”  
“What’m I talkin’ about? Ivlis, of course!” he said, slamming his fist on the counter for emphasis. “Tha’ stupid, dense…” He trailed off, noticing that his own glass was empty. “... Refill.”  
Maekami shrugged. He was serving more water than alcohol to the devil at this point. He wasn't eager to find out how much it would take to kill Satanick with alcohol poisoning. Satanick was too far gone to notice the difference anyway, so Maekami just handed him another glass of ice water.  
Satanick fell silent for the moment, and Maekami was grateful he couldn't drink and talk at the same time. This was getting tiresome. 

The quiet didn't last nearly long enough. Satanick suddenly glared up, hand in tight fists, knuckles going white with anger. “Th’ hell ya lookin’ at!?” he spat.  
Maekami chuckled. “Lord Satanick, I cannot look at you,” he said, gently tapping the paper that covered his face. He leaned over, putting his hands on top of the devil’s. It seemed like a friendly gesture on the surface, but when Satanick tried to pull away, he found that the demon was pinning him down  
“Now, Sir,” he continued, “I cannot have you causing a ruckus in hear. No matter who you are.” The paper fluttered up ever so slightly, giving Satanick a glimpse of sharp teeth bared in a sinister smile.  
For a few bleary moments, Satanick searched for eyes in that blank whiteness. He found none. And he couldn't find the courage to challenge Maekami’s threat; that disembodied grin was so much harder to grin back at than a whole face. There was something deeply unsettling about it.  
He felt Maekami’s grip relax and yanked his hands away. “Aight, I ge’ it! I'll go…”  
The bartender nodded, all politeness once more. “Thank you for your patronage, Lord Satanick. … I will call Envi in a half-hour to ensure you made it home safely.”  
“Fuckin’...” Satanick stood, grumbling something under his breath.  
As he watched the devil crash into several tables (and customers) as he stomped toward the entrance, Maekami wondered if maybe sending him back alone was a bad idea.


	4. By the Cruelty Deaf as a Fire...

Poemi’s tiny hand curled around his fingers. “Daddy, why d’you get hurt sho much? Poemi doesn't want Daddy to get hurt….”  
Ivlis forced his mouth into a reassuring smile and knelt down so that he was eye-to-eye with his daughter. “It's just that Daddy isn't as strong as he used to be, and it isn't so easy to fight everything off anymore.”  
“Who’sh hurting you? Poemi’ll tear them to shweds! Pull out all their teeth ‘n break all their bones ‘n—”  
Ivlis shook his head, quieting her. “No, kiddo, you don't need to do that. Some things I gotta do myself, yeah? And it's my job to worry about you, not yours to worry about me.”  
Poemi frowned at him. “I guessh…”  
“And I know,” he said, and ruffled her hair.  
She purred. “D’you have time to pway?” she said, reaching up to grab onto his hand with hers. “Pwease?”  
He didn't want to say no to her, but he was still in no state to be running around and playing games with her. “I… I can't right now,” he said, inwardly flinching as he saw her face fall with disappointment. “But maybe in a few days?” he added.  
Poemi perked up at that. “Yeah! ‘N then we can pway for a looooong time when you're all better! Sho don't do anything shtoopid.” She hugged him as tight as she could.  
“Don't like making promises I can't keep.”  
“At least twy, Daddy,” she said. “Or Poemi’s gonna be mad!”  
“Alright, alright. I'll do my best.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Now go and have some fun, kid. You don't wanna waste your day hanging around me.”  
“Wouldn't be a waste. But I dunno if Daddy can handle Poemi right now!” she answered, before flashing him one last smile and skipping off. 

There was a strange ache in his chest. Poemi should have been a reason for him to try harder, but somehow that only made him feel worse. He betrayed her with every drop of blood he shed, which just made him want to bleed all the more. He scratched at his neck until the partially healed wounds reopened. The pain and warmth that followed was familiar. Almost… comforting. Almost addicting.  
“Guess I'm still gonna be stupid,” he thought, and closed his eyes. He didn't want to see, didn't want to look at the dimming flames of his failure. Didn't want to face the daughter who believed in him with the single-minded love of a child, which he neither understood nor deserved.  
So instead of following her and making an offer to at least be around her even if he couldn't be a part of her games, he turned his back on his world and retreated back into the darkness of his castle.

— — — —

Emalf poked his head around the corner, and very nearly leapt out of his skin when he found himself face-to-face with a devil. A somewhat shaky devil who was taking those shallow little breaths that normally meant that either a nervous breakdown or a murderous rampage was on the way.  
“Boss…? You alright?” He fidgeted. “B-Boss?”  
“What?” Ivlis hissed, spitting out the word like venom.  
Emalf flinched. “I… Eff, man, you just… Don't look so good,” he said, his gaze dragging along the unhealthy pallor of Ivlis’s skin, his shaking hands, his bloodshot eyes and drooping wings.  
Even in his current state, Ivlis had no trouble grabbing Emalf by the collar of his shirt and lifting him off the ground. “Is that so?”  
The demon squirmed, sweat pouring down his face. His claws scrabbled uselessly against Ivlis’s scaled hand. “I-I d-d-didn't mean you were weak or anything! P-P-Please don't kill me!” he squealed.  
“Then what. Did. You. Mean?” Ivlis growled.  
Emalf felt the devil’s grasp tightening, his claws poking through the fabric and getting closer and closer to gouging into his flesh. “You seemed mopier than usual— N-Not that you're whiny or anything normally! Or now!” Tiny pinpricks of pain lit up as Ivlis’s nails pierced through the top layer of his skin. “Gah! I-I didn't mean any of it, Boss! I effed it up! I was just—”  
His babbling was cut off by Ivlis tossing him to the side. His wings crumpled against the wall and a whimper of pain escaped his lips. “Boss… p-please…”  
Ivlis towered over him from where he slumped on the floor. “You think you're in any position to be making demands?” he asked.  
Emalf swallowed hard, pressing himself against the wall despite the pain in his wings to try and make himself as small as possible. “I was just w-worried…”  
The heel of Ivlis’s boot pressed into his stomach. “Do you think I need the likes of you worrying about me?”  
“But—”  
The devil’s foot pushed harder. Emalf gagged.  
“Do you think—”  
“Daddy!”

Emalf and Ivlis both froze. Ivlis pulled his foot back and made a pathetic attempt to hide behind his wings like a child caught doing something bad.  
Poemi stalked up to them with her arms crossed. She huffed out little rings of smoke. “Daddy, you're shupposed to be getting better! Not bullying Emalf! That’sh my job!” she scolded. She pushed Ivlis’s wings aside, and he hung his head in shame. And there's no shame like a parent being berated by their child.  
Emalf scooted back from the two of them, hoping that they wouldn't notice his retreat.  
A barrier of flame erupted behind him. “You hafta shtay too! Poemi’s not done yet!”  
Emalf stopped moving. “Staying!” he squeaked.  
Ivlis sighed. “Poemi…”  
“Noooope,” she said, leaping up with a flap of her wings to force his mouth shut with her little hands. “No back-talk! You're gonna go resht and let Rieta take care of stuff!” She grabbed his shoulders and spun him around, then gave him a gentle push toward his room. “Poemi’ll handle thish.”  
Emalf shrank away from her. “I-I think I'd rather deal with Ivlis…”  
Poemi grinned. “Awh, c'mon Malfy! We're gonna have fuuun!” She pulled him up with enough force that he felt like his arm was going to be ripped from its socket. With a few hops, she moved in front of Ivlis. “One lasht thing, Daddy,” she said, putting her free hand on her hip. “You gotta get better, sho go to bed! Or me ‘n Rieta are gonna make shure you do!”  
“Yes’m,” Ivlis said, lifting a hand to salute her.  
Pride lit up her face. “That’sh right, lisshen to Poemi!” She waved him away and began arguing with Emalf, dragging him away despite the demon’s best efforts to stop her.

They were not paying enough attention to see Ivlis’s shoulders slump, his feet dragging along the floor as he walked. He was out of sight before they could see him drop his act of normalcy. He held one hand in front of his face and watched flames dance along his fingertips. They burned afterimages into his eyes like the cruel rays of the sun. Burned into his mind like that silken whisper, that lie of “I love you.”  
He could not stop himself. He slipped his hand under his scarf, peeled off the scabs and pried apart the skin until he could smell nothing but blood and feel nothing but the pain lighting up his neck.  
That pain was the only thing he deserved, he thought. And it was all he would get.


	5. ...And Blind as the Night

The shrill ring of the phone shattered through the comfortable silence. Envi wondered who could be calling at this hour, but he picked it up, if only to make it stop.  
“Hello?” he said. He fought to disguise his annoyance.  
“Yes, hello. This is Maekami. Has the devil returned home yet?”  
“Forgive me for asking, but why would you care?”  
“If he hasn't yet, then you should start searching for him.”  
Envi’s fingers tightened around the phone, making the casing crack under the pressure. “What have you done with him?” he growled.  
“I assure you, that was no threat. I have done nothing,” came the reply, as smooth and formal as ever. “My role is to serve. If he wishes to abuse that service to drink himself near unconsciousness and stumble off into the night, that's his own decision.”  
“He WHAT!?” Envi screeched.  
On the other end, Maekami jerked the phone away. He gave Envi a few seconds before cautiously bringing the phone back up to his ear and praying that Envi’s outburst was over. “Yes, he—”  
Envi slammed down the phone. “Kyou!!” he yelled, throwing on his coat, “Get over here!”  
Kyou rushed into the room at the sound of Envi screaming his name. “Yes what who's dying?” he asked all in one breath. It came out more like ‘yeswahoosying’. Somehow Envi understood him anyway.  
“Mr. Satanick’s gone missing.”  
“... Again?”  
“If you're so used to it, get moving!” Envi called over his shoulder, already halfway out the door.  
“I feel like we spend more time looking over him than he does over us,” Kyou mumbled. He didn't think Envi heard him, but out of the corner of his eyes he could see the other demon stiffen. Envi’s eyes flashed an unvoiced threat, and Kyou’s mouth snapped shut.  
He should have known better than to complain. He hurried after Envi, dreading to think of what punishment he'd get when this was over.

The rain started up again, as it always seemed to when he felt like this. The gloomy clouds overhead did little to help his mood. Satanick tilted his head up to the sky, letting the droplets roll down his cheeks like tears. Hell, maybe they were tears. He wasn't sure anymore.  
With one hand he shielded a cigarette from the downpour, with the other he flicked ineffectually with a lighter.  
Fwip.  
Fwip.  
Fwip.  
He growled his annoyance and turned his gaze back downward to glare at the thing, willing it to light. “Come. On.”  
As if answering him, it sparked to life. But, instead of lighting his cigarette, he found himself entranced by the flame. That little pinpoint of fire danced and sputtered in the rain, struggling to stay alight. A pointless struggle; it was already so weak. Just like—  
Satanick dropped the lighter. It clattered to the ground, and he sunk to his knees along with it. This time, as he buried his face in his hands, he knew it wasn't just rain soaking into his gloves.  
“Fucking selfish...cruel...hedonistic...piece of shit,” he gasped between sobs. “Why do I? Why do you? Why why why why WHY!?” His shrieks echoed through the alley until something gave way in his throat, and his voice choked on the blood that suddenly gushed into his mouth.  
He curled up there on the concrete. The torrent of rain drowned out both his pathetic mewls of pain and the sound of desperate footsteps pounding across the concrete.

“Saaaa….taaaa….niiiick!” Kyou yelled with his hands cupped to his mouth. He gasped for air like a fish out of water between syllables, lungs burning from his screaming as well as from running at breakneck pace to keep up with Envi. “En… Envi! I don't...think...he could…hear this!”  
“Did I tell you that you could stop?” There wasn't event a hint of fatigue in his voice.  
“But...rain’s...too loud,” he wheezed.  
“You know as well as I do where this rain comes from. We need to find him, soon.”  
There was no use arguing any more. Kyou knew that Envi would go to the ends of the earth for Satanick, and he'd be dragged along for the trip whether he liked it or not. Of course, Kyou cared about the man too, but this was pushing the limits of his loyalty.  
Envi skidded to a sudden halt in front of him. He lifted one hand to warn Kyou to stop, but too late to keep the demon from ramming face-first into the back of his raised fist.  
“Ow!! What the hell!?”  
“Shut up,” Envi snapped. “He's nearby.”  
“How can you tell? You got a sixth-sense for absolutely hammered devils or something?”  
Envi flashed him a warning glare. “I said, shut up.” His ears twitched, trying to hone in on whatever noise he could pick up. “This way,” he said.  
He slipped into an alleyway, Kyou at his heels. His nose wrinkled at the stench, sewage and rot and worse, that lingered in these grimy parts of the city. His head tilted this way and that as he crept forward in an attempt to pinpoint that sound at the very edges of his hearing. It was a gritty rasp, with a disgusting sort of squelch in it. Like sandpaper being ground into an open wound, coupled with occasional whimper. He shuddered and quickened his pace.  
And there. That dark shape huddled by the dumpster, little rivulets of violet-tinged water flowing outward from it.  
“Oh, dear Fumus…” Kyou breathed. “Is… Is he alive?”  
Envi did not answer him. He crouched by the crumpled form of Satanick and lifted up the devil’s head. It was not a pretty sight. Envi wiped the snot and tears and blood and vomit away with the corner of his coat.  
“It's okay, Mr. Satanick. I'm here now,” he whispered.

— — — —

Envi stood as a stalwart guard at Satanick’s bedside. He allowed no one, not even Kyou, to get close to the devil or even set foot in his room.  
It was only partially overprotectiveness. It was rare that he got any time alone with Satanick. It was not time spent together as much as time he spent looking over an unconscious devil, but he treasured these moments all the same. He could not hope for much more, he thought. He gazed longingly at the devil’s lips. Had he been a bit more romantic, a bit less sure in Satanick’s utter lack of attraction toward him, he might have tried it. What a fairytale dream that was, saving his prince from his slumber with true love’s kiss. But fairytales and dreams would remain only that. Satanick did not, could not love him back. A kiss was no mystical cure, and love was no magic solution to all of life’s problems.  
He could care for the devil, but he could only do so much. Satanick would have to wake up on his own.

His head hurt. The kind of hurt like a small army trying to break through his skull with pickaxes. If he could, he would have sunk back into blissful sleep, but there was no way he could sleep like this. Every part of him ached, and every breath felt like knives running down his throat. With herculean effort, Satanick forced his eyes open.  
The first thing he saw was Envi, hovering over him like a worried mother. Relief was clear on the demon’s face, even though he did not speak. The briefest of smiles flashed across his normally serious expression, and then he ducked out of sight. Satanick didn't bother trying to track where he went; it was hard enough just keeping his eyes open.  
Something cold and wet pressed against his lips as gentle hands pushed him into a sitting position.  
“Drink,” Envi whispered into his ear in a voice so soft that it felt more like a suggestion in his own mind than something he heard. He gulped down the water greedily.  
“I feel like shit,” Satanick croaked when he was finished.  
He felt Envi tense up, just slightly. Not a nervous sort of tense, just attentive.  
He cast a glance at his subordinate before continuing. “Ivlis just… Fuckin’ left me…”  
Envi nodded. He ran his thumb along the scars that had begun to form on Satanick’s cheek from Ivlis’s blow. “He's hurt you.”  
Satanick shrug. “Can't say I didn't deserve it.”  
Envi shook his head. “That's wrong.” His hand brushed against Satanick’s. Even this, this insignificant contact as they sat shoulder-to-shoulder, made his heart pound.  
“... Eh?”  
“You love him, don't you?” The words were hard to choke out. “And you only wanted to show it. Maybe you just showed it wrong. Ask yourself, what is love to you? And what is love to him? And when you find those answers, you'll know what you should do.”  
“Love…” Satanick felt tempted to laugh. “Love? That disgusting thing?”  
Envi raised an eyebrow. “Yes, Mr. Satanick. It's quite obvious.”  
“Well, love, lust, what's the difference? Where's the line between pleasure and pain?” A strange grin was beginning to spread across his face. “Bring me the roach. I'd like to have a little talk with him.”  
“Are you certain?” Envi asked, but that was not his real question. His real questions were ‘Aren't I enough?’, ‘What makes him so much better than me?’, and, most of all, ‘Why don't I make you forget all about that silly little devil?’  
But those were unaskable questions.  
“Yes. I'm sure. He's mine, and I want him here.”  
“Very well,” Envi said. He exited with a bow.


	6. All's Fair in Love and War

Envi rapped on the door to Ivlis's castle. Now that he was waiting for a reply rather than dodging magma flows and ducking into whatever meagre shade he could find, he could really look around at the place. It made his lip curl in disdain. A hell full of fire and destruction was just so utterly cliché. No accounting for style. And so impractical as well—even its denizens wilted beneath the heat that came from the fiery hell below and the blazing sun above.  
He slammed his fist against the door again. His foot tapped impatiently on the doorstep. “Open up, or I'm breaking in,” he shouted. His voice carried away across the red wasteland, without even an echo in reply.  
He shrugged, and in one deft motion he wedged the tip of his umbrella between the door and its jam, sliced it up through the hinges, and swung it sideways so that the door twisted free completely and fell with a resounding crash to the floor inside.  
Standing there, the door just inches away from squashing him, was Emalf.   
“Awh, hell naw,” he whispered. He only had to take one look to decide that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with Envi, and he turned tail to run.  
He barely got a single step before Envi swept his umbrella out, hooked it around Emalf’s leg, and sent him sprawling.   
“Ow! Ah, eff…”  
The tip of Envi’s umbrella pressed against his back. “Where's your devil?”  
“Look man, I don't effin’ know!” Emalf said. His voice cracked in desperation. “‘S not my job to watch him! He goes wherever the hell he wants!”  
“Trying to keep him hidden, hm?” Envi said, putting more pressure on Emalf’s spine. “Don't worry. I'll find out eventually.”  
“No! Please, no, I effin’ swear I don't know! I don't!!” A few tears rolled down his cheeks. “Stop! Rieta! RIETA!!” he shrieked as Envi pushed harder.

Rieta heard a distant screaming. At first she thought it was only in her imagination, but it just got louder and louder until she had to accept that the noise was real. And it sounded an awful lot like Emalf. She dropped what she was doing and dashed towards its source.  
And then she reached it.  
“Oh… Oh no…”  
Envi grinned at her. He was nothing but a dark shadow backlit by fire, his teeth a white slash and his eyes as red as the puddle spreading across the floor. And in that puddle was Emalf, skewered on Envi’s umbrella. Only his pained wheezing indicated he was still alive.  
“I assume you're Rieta?” Envi asked, polite as can be.   
“Who are you?”  
“Envi. Now then,” he wrenched his chosen weapon out of Emalf to leave the demon convulsing on the floor. “As I was asking him, where exactly is that devil of yours? It's rather rude of him to not come and greet his guest.”  
Rieta dropped into a fighting stance. Every muscle in her body tensed, ready to react to whatever Envi would do next. “I will die before you so much as look at him,” she answered through gritted teeth.  
“Really?” Envi moved. He was far too fast for her to react, and he only laughed when her claws met empty air. “Imagine how he'd feel if it came to that! You, and that other sniveling demon, eviscerated on the floor. The little one too. His daughter, correct? Her little broken body… Why, if your devil found you all like that, he just...might….snap.” Envi punctuated the sentence by rapping his umbrella on Rieta’s arm.  
She jumped in shock, and in that moment she knew she had lost. The battle was unfought, but Envi had already proved himself stronger, faster, and far more ruthless. Any attempt to resist would just make his threat come true.   
“Just...don't hurt him…” she pleaded.   
Envi just smiled. “Be a good girl and take me to him. Then we can make promises.”

It was not a good way to wake up. It was a screaming pain in his neck as merciless hands wrapped around it, pressing against his fresh wounds. And, when he opened his eyes, it was a fang-toothed smile hovering above his face.  
“Rise and shine,” Envi said, tugging him out of bed by the throat.  
Ivlis choked out a tiny gasp of sound.  
Envi’s grip tightened. “Hush, little devil. I'm doing the talking.”  
Then his gloves burst into flames.  
He jerked his hands away, tearing off his gloves and throwing them to the ground.   
Ivlis stared at him with the desperation of a cornered animal. And like a cornered animal, he was ready to claw his way toward any chink of light he saw for escape.  
Envi hardly had time to recover from his surprise before Ivlis launched himself. He sidestepped the devil just in time for his horns to slice a long line into his suit instead of his skin. Ivlis turned before he could ram into the wall, jerking his head like an angry bull.  
Envi was determined to stand his ground this time. He blocked the doorway from where he stood, and there was no way he was going to allow Ivlis to pass through it. He twirled his umbrella around to point it at him.  
“That the best you've got?”  
Ivlis hissed. He held out his hand like he was holding on to something, and in a swirl of flame his bident appeared. He swung it, but the blow was wild and inaccurate in his fear-shaken hands. Envi ducked beneath it easily and aimed a kick at the devil’s shins.   
Ivlis didn't even flinch; it was like kicking a brick wall. After all, he was nothing if not used to pain. He stabbed downward with his bident at Envi’s outstretched leg while the demon was still distracted by his lack of reaction. This time, Ivlis hit his mark. The wound sizzled, Ivlis’s red-hot weapon literally making blood boil.   
Envi bit his lip to keep himself from crying out. He rolled out of the way as Ivlis aimed to strike again, and he smiled despite the pain. The devil had expended far too much power already. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead, and by his ragged breaths it was clear that every second of this fight was taking its toll on him. By the fourth swing of his weapon, the blow was so sluggish that Envi had no trouble dodging it, even with his wounded leg.   
“Pathetic,” he murmured. He swung with all his strength at Ivlis’s head.  
The devil hit the floor like a pile of rocks. Envi laughed and slung his body over his shoulder. His wounded leg protested at the weight, but he'd been through worse.   
In a swirl of poisonous smoke—a power bestowed by his own devil—he vanished.


	7. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bro.

It had been a long time since he was last in the Flame World. He ground his feet into the dirt with each step, more for show than out of any actual spite.  
This place as different than he remembered. It was still hot, of course, still flaming and blazing and burning. But it was dimmer, like a picture faded with time. Like a memory half-forgotten. Like a hollow replica of a place that used to be alive. He stopped kicking up clouds of dust as he went; it felt too much like desecrating a grave.  
It surely was as still and silent as a tomb. The crackle of flames was the only noise, their flickering the only motion. No bats fluttered across the sky, no dogs rolled in the dirt. The houses stood empty. Not a single demon peered through the windows. He gripped his jacket, pulling it closer to his body. Despite the oppressive heat, he suddenly felt very cold.  
“Hello?” he asked. His voice fled away from him.  
And something moved.  
He could have cried with relief when he saw that distant figure raise its head.  
“Emalf!” he shouted, breaking into a run.  
“Eff, man, is that really you…?” Emalf asked as soon as he was in range of his own voice. He was not smiling. He shuffled more than he walked, and he kept pushing his arm against his stomach like he was afraid his guts would fall out. “You're—”  
“Vendetto. It's Vendetto now,” he said quickly, seeing the first syllable of his real name begin to form on Emalf’s lips. “My name, I mean.”  
“What, ya got so much of a vendetta ya made it your effin’ name?” Emalf attempted a laugh, but it quickly turned into wheezing as he bent over in pain. Blood dripped onto the already red ground.  
Vendetto was at his side in an instant, his eyes flicking over Emalf’s body in search of injuries. “Dude, what happened? Are you okay?”  
“‘Salright, Bro. You know how we are. Always comin’ back, the effin’ cockroaches of demons.” He managed a wincing smile. “Terrible timing though, man. We just got steamrolled. By one effin’ demon.”  
Vendetto’s expression darkened. “What, the old man didn't bother to help you?”  
“That's not how it—” Emalf started, but he could tell Vendetto had stopped listening. He desperately tried to keep pace as Vendetto stomped off towards the castle.

Vendetto was disappointed to find that the door had already been kicked off its hinges. He had been looking forward to doing that himself.  
“Ivlis!!” he yelled as he stepped inside. “‘Ey, airhead! Come out and face me! Or are you scared?”  
Ivlis, of course, did not, could not hear his calls. But Poemi did.  
Before Vendetto could take another breath to shout again, his sister barreled into him.  
“Big Bro!” she said, throwing her arms around him in a hug. “You're back!!”  
Vendetto laughed, his anger temporarily forgotten. “Yeah, kid, I’m back.”  
“Back, back, back, back!” she let go of him and danced around the floor. “I misshed you!”  
“I missed you too.” He smiled and added, “And, by the way, I go by Vendetto now.”  
“Vendetto? Venny!” She clasped her hands behind her back and leaned towards him. “But why? What’sh wrong with the name Daddy gave you?”  
“Didn't like it, that's all.” He frowned. “Where...is Dad?”  
“Rieta shaid he...had to go away for a bit….”  
“Seriously? Did he know I was coming and just couldn't stand to see me?” Vendetto laughed harshly. “Tell me, am I that much of a disgrace, or is he just that much of a dirty coward?”  
“It’sh not like that!” Poemi said. “It wasn't because of you!”  
“Then where is he, huh? Why is he suddenly gone when I decide to come back?” He tried to ignore the tears pricking at his eyes. “Does he not care!?”  
“It’sh not like that!” his sister protested. “It’sh jusht a coincidensh! He’sh missed you too…”  
“Coincidence? Now where'd you learn a big word like that? Bet he didn't think about me at all!”  
Poemi grabbed onto his arm and whined, “Vennyyy…”  
Emalf put a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “Look, bro, he'll be back. For now, why don't we go t’ my place?”  
“Yeah, let’sh pway!”  
Emalf nodded. “You can chew your dad out as much as you want once he's done with whatever the hell he's doing. For now, let's have some effin’ fun!”

It had taken a few hours of karaoke and Emalf’s old video games, but Poemi was finally fast asleep on the couch.  
Emalf put down his controller and glanced over at Vendetto. “I… can’t believe you’re back…”  
“C’mon man, I thought we were past the mushy stuff.” He jabbed at the buttons on his own controller, beating up Emalf’s unmoving avatar. The screen burst into colors and fanfare. “Beat ya.”  
“Shhh!” Emalf hissed, scrambling for the remote to lower the volume so they wouldn’t wake up Poemi. “And that doesn’t count!”  
“It totally does,” Vendetto said with a grin. He slouched farther down into his seat. “Which keeps my perfect record of winning, and yours of losing.”  
“That’s ‘cuz you’re an effin’ cheater,” Emalf grumbled. He waited for Vendetto to make some sort of snippy reply, but it didn’t come.  
Vendetto’s smile had disappeared. He picked at the bandages of his arm, staring blankly at the wall.  
“Hey, man,” Emalf said, putting his hand atop Vendetto’s. “Still thinkin’ ‘bout Ivlis?”  
“No.”  
“That’s an effin’ lie. He didn’t leave because ‘a you. So don't worry about it. And, anyway, whatever the hell he or anyone else thinks, you’ve always got me.” He smiled.  
“... Yeah.” His own smile crept back onto his face. “Should we pick up where we left off?”  
Emalf lowered his sunglasses to stare hard into Vendetto’s face. “You mean…?”  
“Yup. No homo, man, but…” He grabbed Emalf by his jacket and dragged him close.  
Emalf nodded. “It’s just a bro thing.”  
Vendetto laughed, and pressed his lips to Emalf’s.

He had missed this so much. He could hardly believe this was real. Everything from Emalf’s shining eyes to the feel of the demon’s hair between his fingers was rendered in perfect detail by his senses. The orange of his eyes was brighter than the sun, the softness better than the rabbits of the Tosatsu Kingdom. His awkwardness, the heat lighting up his face, the rough scrape of his scales against skin, all of it was perfect. Their tails twirled together. Vendetto loved all of it, all of him.  
His hands along Emalf’s body traced out ciphers for the words he still couldn’t bring himself to say aloud. Their ‘ _I love you_ 's were written in their sweat and spoken in the sweetness of their kisses. But not aloud.  
Not yet, anyway, Vendetto thought. One day he’d say it. One day he’d be brave enough to take Emalf’s hand and announce to the world how they felt, and on that day they would no longer need to hide in the dark.  
One day, if not today.


	8. Rude Awakening

Ivlis awakened with a splitting headache. He rolled over with a groan, wanting nothing more than to just fall back asleep.  
And then he smelled it, that all-too-familiar reek of booze and sweat. His eyes snapped open.  
“What the fuck!?” he shrieked, rolling out of bed in a flail of limbs. He pressed his hands against himself to check just how much clothing he still had on—… All of it? That couldn't be right. He had just woken up in a bed with Satanick, and he found it hard to believe he'd made it through the experience fully clothed and unmolested.  
Satanick sat up, rubbing blearily at his eyes. “Sheesh, keep it down, will ya?” he grumbled.  
Ivlis scrambled to his feet. “How did I— How did you—… Did you?”  
Satanick rolled his eyes. “Guess it's no use telling an airhead what to do. Also. The hell you talking about?” He tried to follow Ivlis’s stare, all the way up to… “Oh? Like what you see?”  
“No! No? No!” Ivlis shook his head frantically, tearing his gaze away from the other devil’s pants. Which he was equally shocked to see intact. “Whatever! Why am I here?!”  
“Pets should stay with their masters, don't you agree?”  
“I'm not your pet!”  
“Mm-hm.” With a snap of his fingers, a shadowy hand rose up behind Ivlis. “Bark all you want, but you rarely ever bite.”  
Ivlis bared his teeth at him, but Satanick was right. He didn't have the nerve to fight back, and as the hand pressed against his back, his expression melted from hostility to resignation.  
Satanick smiled, and with a flick of his shadow hand’s wrist, Ivlis was thrown back onto the sheets. He rolled on top of the devil, pressing his shoulders into the mattress.

But then he stopped.  
His eyes and Ivlis’s met, and in those flaming irises he saw fear. Anger. Despair. An involuntary shudder ran through him. This suddenly felt very, very wrong.  
“... You're not gonna?” Ivlis asked after a few seconds.  
“Gonna what?”  
Ivlis raised an eyebrow at him. “You know what. I’m a flame devil, I burn shit. You’re an incubus or whatever, you fuck shit. So just get it over with.”  
“You're in such a hurry! Not even a little foreplay?”  
“Like you need help getting it up.” He tried to keep his voice steady and confident, but it began to waver.  
Satanick grinned, and Ivlis knew the devil had called his bluff. “And what about you, my love? I'd prefer if we were on the same page.”  
Once again, Ivlis lit up at that word. He hissed, showing his sharp white teeth. “I told you already. Fuck me, whatever, but don't fuck with me. We both know you don't love me, so stop faking it.”  
“Oh, but Ivlis, I do. I love you, you sweet, stupid devil. And like it or not, little cockroach, one day you will be mine.”  
“Hate to break it to ya, but I belong to Lord Siralos,” Ivlis replied.  
The longing with which he said the god’s name made Satanick blaze with jealousy.  
The back of his hand cracked across Ivlis’s face. “You dumb bitch,” he snarled. “That dear father you love so much tossed you out with the garbage. Don't you get it? He didn't want you. Why do you still want him!?”  
Ivlis grew still beneath him.  
Satanick froze, the hostility melting out of his expression. “I-I… I didn't mean… Ivlis? I'm… I'm sorry…”  
“... Enough.” Ivlis brushed Satanick’s hands off his body and got out of the bed. “If you're really sorry, you'll let me go.”  
The devil nodded and made no move to stop him. “Kyou’ll escort you back. Don't want Envi beating you up again.” He tried to crack a smile, but gave it up when he saw the way Ivlis was glaring at him.  
Satanick was sure to give him a wide berth as he edged towards the door. “Kyou!!” he called out.  
The demon came running down the hall a minute later. “Yes!?” he said, maybe a bit too loudly.  
“... Uh. I need you to take the cockro— I mean, Ivlis, back home.”  
“... And how do I do that?”  
“I dunno. Just do what he tells you.”  
“‘Kay.” Kyou tried to peer through the doorway to Ivlis. “You ready?”  
“Ready,” Ivlis answered, brushing past Satanick and into the hall. He started off at a brisk pace.  
When he heard Satanick calling out a goodbye, he just tightened his wings around himself and walked faster.

A light drizzle pattered on the sidewalk.  
“Man, Envi’s pretty smart to always carry around an umbrella,” Kyou said, trying to make conversation,  
Ivlis grunted.  
“Soooo… What're we doing?”  
“Looking for a hole or something. Low elevation. Flammable.”  
They lapsed back into silence. Kyou was about to make some sort of comment about holes, but he thought better of it when he considered just what Satanick had been planning to do to the bedraggled devil.  
“... Satanick likes you, right?” he tried instead.  
“Claims he does.” Ivlis shrugged. “Maybe he does. Dunno how Nicky thinks.”  
“... Nicky?” Kyou smirked. “That's pretty cute.”  
“S-Shut up!” Ivlis hissed. “Can't I call him whatever I want!?”  
“I guess. But most don't have the nerve to call Satanick nicknames. And when they do, it's usually insults. Not Nicky.”  
His ears lowered like an upset cat. “Yeah, whatever. And he calls me Roach.”  
“And Airhead, and Idiot.” Kyou grinned. “Also: Love, Dearie, Sweet Devil, Ivliv—”  
“Enough!” Ivlis snapped out one wing to cut him off. It smacked into Kyou’s side, catching him off guard. For a few dizzying seconds, he reeled on the edge of thd curb.  
Ivlis grabbed his arm before he could fall. “Careful.”  
“Thanks. … Heh, he's right, you are pretty sweet!”  
“... Not sweet… ‘M the devil…” he grumbled.  
“Awh, cut Satanick some slack. He means it, y’know? He's just not too good with showing affection.”  
“... So he's just being affectionate, huh?”  
“Hey, I ain't saying what he does is right. Just saying that you shouldn't dismiss everything he says as just messing with you.”  
Ivlis suddenly stopped walking. “Here's good,” he said, ignoring Kyou’s previous statement and gesturing at a nearby trench. It looked like it had once served as some sort of sewer.  
It certainly smelled like it, but at least the collected trash would prove to be very flammable.  
“You can go back home now,” Ivlis said.  
“... Aight. Bye, Ivlis. You aren't so bad, you know.”  
Ivlis didn't answer.  
Kyou shrugged, and walked away.

He lit it all up. It almost felt like home, standing among the roaring flames. Thick black smoke billowed into the already polluted air.  
It made it easier to concentrate. He took a deep breath, trying to take as much power as he could from the rapidly spreading fire. He felt for that tether of power between this world and his own, that connection present in every fire.  
He was just glad he had enough strength to find it.


	9. Dear Dad

It had been a rough few days, Ivlis thought as he clawed his way up out of the lava flows. He flicked the liquid fire off his clothes, for once glad that he couldn't be burned. Normally, he didn't need to do this. Normally he could just warp by himself and go wherever he wanted.  
But he was at his limit. Between fight with Envi and Emalf’s regeneration draining on him, he had precious little power left to spend. So now he needed a connection between fires to go from one place to another.  
He also very much needed a break. Nothing sounded so good as to just curl up right then and there in the dirt and fall asleep.  
He fluttered his wings, once more wishing that they were real, and began the trek back to his castle. He had to let them know that he was safe.   
They worried enough about him already.

Vendetto lounged on Ivlis’s chair with his feet dangling over the armrests. He glared at the still-broken-down doorway in preparation for when Ivlis finally walked through it.  
Even so, he wasn't quite prepared for when he did.  
Ivlis wasn't prepared either. He gawked at his son, hardly believing his eyes. Maybe this was all a dream.  
Vendetto tried to keep his air of cool calm. “Close your mouth before somethin’ flies in there.”  
Ivlis’s mouth snapped shut. He gained a sort of strange dignity as he did so; he stood a little straighter, his wings lifted slightly. There was hardness in his face even though his mouth trembled.   
Vendetto found himself shying away, pushing himself as far back as he could, as Ivlis approached.   
His father stood before him, and whatever snarky comment he had been readying vanished from his mind. He was afraid.  
“... Kid,” Ivlis said. He reached out hesitantly to reassure himself this was real.  
Vendetto flinched as Ivlis’s claw brushed against his cheek. “It's Vendetto,” he said, smacking away Ivlis’s hand.  
“Cool name.” His mouth twitched into a nervous smile.  
“Cooler than what you gave me,” Vendetto snapped at him. He leapt to his feet and shoved his face up towards Ivlis’s. “Not that I'd want anything you gave me, anyways.”  
Ivlis snorted and gently flicked his son’s forehead. “No need to get so worked up. It's your name, so it's only fair if you get to choose it.”  
“Shaddup!” Vendetto’s tail lashed at the air. He felt himself beginning to soften to Ivlis, but that only served to make him angrier.  
“Hush now,” Ivlis said. He wiped away the tears that had formed at the corners of Vendetto’s eyes with his thumb. “What's wrong?”  
“Like you don't know!” Vendetto said, shoving him away. He laughed. “Of course you wouldn't know; you're always either too stupid or too neglectful.”  
“I… I'm sorry…”  
“I don't want your ‘sorry’. ‘Sorry’ doesn't change anything.” He tried to push Ivlis aside, but Ivlis’s claws snagged on his bandages.  
They unwound from his arms in a ribbon of white before he even knew what was happening.   
“... Vendetto…” Ivlis dragged his fingers along the cracked scales, the jagged lines that slashed through both scale and skin.   
“Don't touch me!” He tried to yank his arm away, but Ivlis’s grip was far stronger than it seemed.  
Ivlis smiled sadly at him. “It's okay. Me too.” With his free hand, he pulled his scarf from his neck.  
Vendetto’s eyes widened.   
Father and son, staring at each other’s scars.  
“I don't expect you to forgive me, but… I know how it is. Just let me do this one thing for you.” A warm glow lit up his fingertips. With a series practiced motions, he guided skin back together, wiped away scar, rejoined scales. He worked with a gentleness Vendetto had never seen. And when he was finished, he released Vendetto’s arm and flashed another smile. “I doubt you'll believe me, but I do love you, you know. You deserve a far better father than I could ever be.”   
His self-deprecating laugh was cut off by Vendetto flinging his arms around him. “Wrong,” he mumbled into the fabric of Ivlis’s shirt. “You deserve a better son.”  
“How can I deserve better when I already have the best?” Ivlis asked. His wings wrapped around Vendetto in a shroud of comforting warmth.

That warmth had its own throb, a pulse that was a sign of life as much as his heartbeat. But it… Stuttered. Fluttered like a heart palpitation, losing strength bit by bit.  
“... Dad?” Vendetto squeezed him a little tighter. “You're okay, right?”  
“Of course, kid.”  
Vendetto pulled away. He wanted to believe his father. He wanted to, but he could not ignore the quiver in Ivlis’s legs, the frantic offbeat pounding of his heart, the dullness in his eyes. And yet, what could he say, what could he do?  
His father was a dying flame, but Vendetto could not even give him forgiveness.  
“... See you later, I guess,” he said.  
Ivlis nodded. He was simply happy that Vendetto had called him “Dad.” That alone warded off the dark haze in his mind, if only for the moment.


	10. Sweet Dreams

It was late. He didn't want to bother Emalf; he was certainly already asleep.  
But he didn't want to lie there alone in the dark and wait for the nightmares to overtake him.  
Vendetto sighed and threw off the covers. He stepped outside of his room and found comfort in the gentle flickering light of the flames lining the hall. He paused by the window.  
No stars glittered behind the glass. There was only that red red sun, ever burning in the sky. He rested his elbows on the sill. He could see nothing but that endless expanse of red ground and black sky, the colors of chaos stretching far into the horizon.  
“Can't sleep?” a voice said behind him. “Me neither.”  
He jumped in surprise and whirled around to face the speaker.  
Ivlis.   
Vendetto nodded. “... Are you alright?” he asked, noting the shimmer of sweat on his father’s face and the bloodshot teary red of his eyes.  
Ivlis laughed the question away. “Just nightmares, that's all. Kinda pathetic, huh?”  
Vendetto looked away. “... Sure.”  
A wing draped over his shoulder. “Hey, you're still a kid. Nightmares happen. Me, though, I'm the devil! Devils don't wake up shaking in the night.” He laughed again.  
“But you do. A lot.” His tail coiled around Ivlis’s leg in some vague attempt at comfort.  
Ivlis shrugged. “You too,” he said. He was certain that the dark circles he could see under Vendetto’s eyes were present under his as well. He nudged the boy with his wing. “C’mon, Vendetto. Give it another try?”  
“Another try at sleeping?”  
“Yeah, why not?” Ivlis grinned. “I can help, yeah?”  
“Give it your best shot, old man.”

It felt childish. And stupid. He wasn't just some little kid anymore.  
He pushed those thoughts out of his head and pulled Ivlis’s wings closer around himself.   
His father hummed a lullaby that he had not heard in years.  
Despite his grudges, Vendetto began to relax. Ivlis’s warm wings, his voice, the soft thrum of a purr—all reminders of a better time. They made him think that maybe things could go back to being that way. That he could be happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> due to various personal reasons, I will not be writing for awhile. I'm guessing around December I'll update this again, but until then, sorry for any inconvenience


	11. Smoke Damage

Satanick smelled smoke. Or at least, more than usual.  
“What do we have here?” rasped a voice behind him.  
Before he could slap on a grin, and hand grasped him by the shoulder and yanked him around.  
“... What? Got nothin’ to say? That any way to greet your brother?”  
“Fumy, give me a sec!” Satanick answered, trying to shake off Fumus’s hand.  
It lifted off his shoulder, yes, then it slammed hard into his face.  
“Ain't getting off that easy.”  
Satanick smiled around the pain. “I get off very easy, thank you very much.”  
“That's right, you whore.”  
“Good to see you too.”  
Fumus nodded. Almost as an afterthought, he extinguished his cigarette on Satanick’s forehead. “You know, I always thought it was too bad you weren’t born a girl. Guess there’s other ways for me to have my fun with you, though.”  
“I look forward to it~”  
“I’m sure you do, you goddamn masochist.”  
“Perfect for a sadist like you.”  
Fumus cracked a brief smile. He gripped Satanick by the throat. “That’s right. Now, you see, I want you to squirm. Taffy’s turned as blank as a brick wall, and where’s the fun in that? So until he recovers…” There was the soft chk chk of scissors opening and closing in anticipation. “I’m gonna be using you, alright?”  
The blades glinted before his eyes. Satanick hooked his thumb under Fumus’s hand to loosen the god’s grip so he could speak. “Make sure to keep me nice and pretty, though.”  
“Nothing I can do will make you think that you’re otherwise, you self-absorbed prick. Now shut up.” He wrenched open Satanick’s jaws. “...Actually, I can fix that for you.”  
Snip, snip. The scissors were not as sharp as he had thought, and Fumus struggled the cleave through Satanick’s tongue. He cut once, twice, more. His hands were slick and purple with blood.  
“Ah, fuck it,” he said, and let go. A few mutilated flaps still clung to the rest of Satanick’s tongue by stubborn strips of flesh. “That’ll be good enough.” He drove the scissors deep into Satanick’s hand for safekeeping, pinning him to the table in the process.  
The devil gurgled some unintelligible reply.  
Fumus rolled his eyes. “Alright, alright, I'll make it quick. Just for you.” He punctuated the sentence with a sharp blow to the back of his brother’s head. “Ready, set, go.”

— — —

“Lord Satanick, I—” Envi froze. A small noise, part outrage, part fear, clogged his throat. In a second, he was by his devil’s side.  
“Milord, who did this to you? I'll… I'll…”  
“No worries, Envi,” Satanick said. His voice was surprisingly clear for how mangled his mouth was. He took a swig from the bottle Fumus left for him, ignoring the way the alcohol seared into his cuts. He smiled a little. Why would he reject his brother’s affection? Each bruise, each bleeding gash was proof of love. That's what Fumus had taught him. “You don't need to go on some stupid revenge quest.”  
“B-B-But…” Envi could not keep the shock from his expression. He wanted retribution, redemption, anything and everything to help his devil.  
And his devil just smiled and laughed and drank, taking comfort in the burning in his stomach and the dullness of his thoughts.  
This was why he loved Ivlis, Envi realized. They were alike. Twisted reflections of forced bravado and false smirks, full of a hurt they could not understand so they could only spread it.  
He knew what he had to do.  
“Lord Satanick, please wait here. I shall return.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so my mental state no longer resembles a fine swiss cheese so i will be writing again  
> but its gonna be more inconsistent than i used to be


	12. Acid Rain

One day followed another in relative peace.  
And then, one day, that peace was broken. Rieta flung the door open and rushed breathless into the room. Between breaths she gasped out the news: Two demons were waiting for him in the throne room.  
Ivlis sighed and rose to his feet. “Fine, fine. Just finish up this game for me?” he asked, gesturing at the match of checkers that he had been playing with Poemi. He was losing badly, as always.  
Rieta glanced back and forth between the board in him, trying to puzzle out both why that was his greatest concern and how exactly he was managing to lose so terribly to his young daughter. When she spoke, it came out more like a question. “I… I can try…?”  
Poemi pouted. “But Daddy is sho much easier to beat!”  
Ivlis ruffled her hair as he passed by to walk out the door. “Don’t worry, Poemi, I’m sure you can still when. We can play again when I get back, okay?”  
“Okay…” she said. She made her move and looked up at Rieta as the other demon sat down. “....King me.”

A weary-looking Kyou and Envi greeted him when he entered the throne room. Or, more accurately, Kyou greeted him, while Envi just growled.  
“Envi, please,” Kyou muttered out of the side of his mouth, putting one hand on Envi’s shoulder to restrain him.  
“... Didn’t think I’d be seeing you around again. Whaddya want?”  
Envi’s lips pulled into a snarl. “Lord Satanick requires you, although he will not admit it. I cannot fathom why he does not just command you to his side, nor can I understand why you would ever leave his presence,” he said coldly. “But, as much as I hate it, the simple fact is that you are the only one who can comfort him now.” He spat, as though the words had dirtied his mouth.  
“Will you go?” Kyou added in a much kinder tone, even though Envi’s eyes still flashed threats.  
Ivlis shrugged. “Sounds like I don’t have much of a choice.”  
Kyou exhaled a breath of relief.  
“Then get going,” Envi snapped. He grabbed onto Kyou’s arm and, not bothering to offer Ivlis a ride as well, whisked back to Satanick’s world.  
Ivlis sighed. He cracked his knuckles and mustered up the power he had just recently recovered. “Never get a break…” he mumbled. “Sorry, Poemi. This is gonna take longer than I thought.”

— — — —

The first thing Ivlis noticed when he burst into flaming existence in Satanick’s realm was the burning in his lungs. Dread sat heavy in his heart as he took in another lungful of the toxic fumes.  
The Pitch Black World had never been the friendliest place, but it was looking especially sinister today. Everyone—demons, witches and their familiars, things too strange to have proper names—huddled in doorways and under awnings. They shrunk against the walls as though they feared the empty spaces between buildings. A thick smog blanketed the city, making them all gasp and wheeze. Those stupid enough to attempt flight were choked by the polluted air and plummeted back to the ground, painfully vulnerable.  
This was one of the times that Ivlis didn’t much mind that his wings didn’t actually function. Even if he had that option, walking was clearly the better choice.  
He stepped out into the open, wary but confused as to why everyone else looked so afraid.

And then the rain started.

It felt like regular rain at first, a gentle pitter-patter on the sidewalk. The kind of icy, gloomy rain that normally meant Satanick was upset about something, but that was no surprise. He had expected that.  
But, as it progressed from a drizzle to a downpour, he realized something else about the rain. It stung where it hit him, and when he looked down at his arms, he found them speckled with droplets of watery blood. Acid rain.  
It burned holes in his skin and clothes. He hissed in pain and raised wings over his head in a makeshift umbrella. He wasn’t sure how long his scarves would last under the acid pouring from above, so he broke into a run.  
He understood now why Kyou and Envi had been so desperate.


	13. Evaporate

With some effort, Satanick managed to raise his head at the sound of approaching footsteps. His eyes were sunken and hollow. A thin stream of purple dribbled down his chin as he willed his eyes to focus on the figure that stood before him.  
“... Ivlis?” he croaked.  
It didn’t seem like Ivlis. Sure, it looked like Ivlis, body full of as many holes as his brain from the acid rain. What wasn’t familiar was the way he carried himself, a certain confidence he had lacked before. He still had that strange despairing look in his eyes, but there was something else there too. Light glittered through the tears in his wings as he spread them, little stars shining in the black fabric.  
Ivlis put his hands on his hips. “Sweet Siralos, you look like crap,” he said.  
“Thanks.” Satanick coughed, spattering the floor with flecks of purple. He felt the urge to raise the bottle in his hand up to his lips, but he knew it was already empty. He let it slip from his limp fingers and shatter on the floor. He turned to walk away.  
To his surprise, Ivlis followed. The flame devil ignored the glass—what were a few more cuts to him?—and trailed behind Satanick as he rummaged around the shelves for another bottle.  
“Didn’t take you for an alcoholic,” he commented, “though I guess it explains a few things.”  
Satanick shrugged. “It happens. You want any?”  
Ivlis grimaced. “No way. You already put your lips on it. I don’t want to get mouth herpes or something.”  
“Suit yourself.” He threw his head back and chugged nearly the entire thing in one go.  
Ivlis watched him with a sort of morbid interest. “... Impressive.”  
“‘M glad that my drinking skills are what finally get a compliment out of you.”  
“It ain’t like that, Nicky,” the flame devil hurried to say. In his haste he let the nickname slip out, and Satanick gave him an odd look.  
“... Did you just call me Nicky?”  
He didn’t have the time to be embarrassed. “Yeah. Nicky. Whatever. Listen, Kyou and Envi are worried about you.”  
Satanick rolled his eyes. “So? Got any other breaking news?”  
Ivlis sputtered out a sigh. “And you say I’m the one who’s dense. Alright, Nicky, let me spell it out for you: I’m worried too.”  
“You’re worried about me,” the other devil said flatly. He laughed. “Yeah, right.”  
“I’m serious!” Ivlis’s tail lashed angrily at the air. “You are impossible… I know it’s impressive I still give a damn about you considering what you’ve done to me, but I do. ‘Cause I know you care in your… own weird way.” He suppressed a shudder and continued, “So this is my weird way of caring.”  
Satanick grinned, a joyless show of bloodstained teeth. “Nah, I think you want to see me dead. I’d want it too. You hate me, don’t you. I’ve fucked you up.”  
Ivlis wrenched the bottle from his hands and stamped on his toes when he tried to take it back. “Nope, no more, you’ve had enough. Now I need you to listen.” He reached up to grab onto Satanick’s chin, forcing their eyes to meet. “You’ve hurt me, and no, ‘m not okay with that. But you hurting you isn’t going to change anything, so why?”  
“Maybe you want revenge. It might make you happy.”  
“News flash, Nicky, it’s not. Stop it.” He snapped his fingers in front of Satanick’s face. “Any of that getting through to your brain?”  
The other devil stared blankly at him.  
“Sweet Siralos…” Ivlis muttered. “Okay. Alright. I got shit to deal with at home, but there’s no way I’m leaving you here alone. So.” He grabbed Satanick’s arm and half-carried, half-dragged him towards the door. “You’re comin’ with me.”  
He used his tattered wings to shelter both of them as best he could as they stepped outside. It wasn’t good enough. He hissed his frustration, and the sound was coupled by the hissing of steam. Raindrops started to evaporate before they could land on the two devils as the heat built up.  
“We are going home!” he snarled, and Satanick cringed at the sudden venom in his voice. His view was choked up by smoke and steam and fire, and when his sight finally cleared, he saw that particular red of the dust that coated the Flame World.


	14. Just a Moment

Vendetto gave them a skeptic look when they walked in. “Is this your new boyfriend?”  
“Hey, I saw you with the bunbuns!” Satanick exclaimed. He giggled.  
“... How come I never get to bring home drunk dates?”  
Ivlis shrugged. “You never asked. Just be glad he’s gone from sad drunk to giggly drunk.”  
“So I can bring in a drunk date?”  
“... Sure.”  
Vendetto grinned. “Sweet. Be right back, Dad.” He vanished around the corner.   
“Wait, you have one already?” he asked, but Vendetto was already gone.  
Satanick slung his arm over Ivlis’s shoulder. “That’s your son, right? He was with those cute lil bunnies.”  
“Maybe you should sit down,” Ivlis mumbled, pulling the other devil’s arm down farther to heft up more of his weight. He doubted Satanick was going to be walking on his own anytime soon.   
“I ain’t sittin’ if I can piggyback on you~” He wrapped his other arm around Ivlis, pulling himself up so that he could speak directly into Ivlis’s ear.  
Ivlis started, his shoulder slamming into Satanick’s jaw. Both devils yelped in surprise. While they were still screaming at each other, Vendetto walked back into the room with Emalf at his arm.  
Emalf watched them with half-closed eyes through his drunken stupor.   
Vendetto stared. “Alright, I’ll admit that I’m new to this whole gay thing, but what in the name of all the gods are you two doing?”  
“AAAAH! Gck—!” Ivlis gagged as Satanick jammed his fingers down his throat.  
“Shhhh. Set a good example for the little ones, keheh…”   
“Hell’s goin’ on?” Emalf grumbled.   
Vendetto shrugged. “Some sort of weird devil mating ritual?”  
Ivlis bent over in a coughing fit, dumping Satanick on the floor in the process.   
“Oh…” Emalf grabbed onto Vendetto’s shoulders and heaved himself up. “Then we should too, right?”  
Vendetto could carry him easily. “Nah, I think they’re just being idiots.” He twisted his body to swing Emalf around, catching him in a bridal carry and kissing him on the nose. “We can do it our own way.”

“.... This is kinda weird,” Ivlis commented.   
Vendetto shrugged, “Eh, can’t really afford to be picky.” He ran his thumb along the curve of Emalf’s cheek, not even bothering to look at his father. Emalf snuggled himself deeper into Vendetto’s arms.  
“Better not be complaining,” Satanick said. He scratched behind Ivlis’s ears, earning himself a purr from the devil. “‘M actually trying to be nice.”  
“You should try more often. It ain’t bad.” He curled up at Satanick’s side on the couch.  
Satanick stroked him like he would a cat. “Maybe I will.”  
Ivlis purred louder and buried his face into Satanick’s jacket. He had gotten used to the smell of booze. He closed his eyes and pretended that this was the only moment between them, that all the torture and insults and anger never happened. And in this moment, he could believe it.


	15. A Sunny Reminder

Ivlis traced spirals on the arm of his throne with one finger. He thought it would be chaotic with Satanick around, but the devil spent most of his time sleeping and begging Vendetto to take him to the Tosatsu kingdom. In short, he was bored.  
And… Strangely hurt? Disappointed? Jealous? But that was stupid. He shook his head; he should be happy that Satanick was leaving him alone. And yet, he just felt lonely.  
He scoffed at himself, “Sweet Siralos, am I that desperate for attention?”  
As if answering his oath, a brilliant blaze of light scorched into his eyes. That light could only mean one thing. Ivlis forgot everything else as hope blossomed painfully in his chest. He stood, dazed, and stumbled toward the light like a sleepwalker.  
“Oh, darling,” he breathed. All thought of Satanick left his mind as some deeper emotion took hold of him. “Will you take me back now…?”  
The words rang out clear as a bell. “As if I would.”  
Ivlis’s steps faltered. “P-Please… I did this all for you!” He swept his hand out to indicate the entirety of the Flame World. “I did everything for you!!”  
Siralos sneered at him. “Disgusting.” He took note of Ivlis’s trembling legs and snapped his fingers, pointing at the ground. “If walking’s so hard, then kneel.” A cruel smile touched his lips. “As if you’re worthy to even lick the bottom of my feet!”  
“Yes, Lord Siralos,” Ivlis replied, immediately dropping to his knees.  
“Consider it a favor, even,” Siralos continued, “A token of my infinite mercy.” He shoved his boot onto the floor beneath Ivlis’s head.  
His son didn’t hesitate. He lifted the god’s foot and, with a tenderness that could only be called loving, ran his tongue along the sole of the shoe.  
“My, how pitiful you are!” Siralos giggled.  
“Yes, Lord Siralos.”  
“An idiot who will never, ever amount to anything. A pathetic, worthless waste of breath.”  
“Yes, Lord Siralos.”  
Siralos suddenly yanked his foot away, only to slam the heel of it into the back of Ivlis’s head a second later. “Don't agree to what you don't understand, you imbecile! You understand nothing. I heard of what you did, you know. Your pathetic attempt to rebel, to return to what you once were. You need to be adequately punished.”  
“It was for you, Lord Siralos.”  
“For me? But I only had one command for you. Burn in disgraceful hellfire. Seems you couldn’t even listen to that.”  
“I tried, milord!” Ivlis cried. He put out one hand and let a fire spark to life in his palm. He held it to his skin, but not even his clothes were burnt. “I tried, oh, I tried!”  
“Try harder,” Siralos said, and grabbed onto Ivlis’s wrist. The flames leapt higher, brighter, sun-gold instead of red and orange and yellow. He pulled Ivlis closer.  
Ivlis couldn’t move, entranced by the vibrant light of his eyes. There was something disturbingly familiar about this all, about Siralos’s touch and the heat that bordered on unbearable.  
“You remember, don’t you?” the god taunted.  
The words were like a key that twisted open a memory best left forgotten. He had been here before, Siralos’s hands gliding down his body in a way he hadn’t known was wrong. The ghost of a memory brought back to life; wide sun grin as his fingers hooked around him, knives under silk and double edged words.

Siralos left him there on the floor. His whole body ached more than when Satanick was finished having fun with him. A deep ache beyond just physical. He gagged on his snot and spit and tears and coiled in on himself. He wished he could claw the memory out of his brain.  
He wished he could just get rid of his mind altogether.


	16. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shorter than usual

“Let me see him!!” Satanick’s voice cracked with desperation.  
“No,” said Rieta, stalwart guard in front of the door.  
“But I love him!”  
“Do you?” She reaches up to grab the collar of his shirt and yanked him down to her height. “Prove it,” she hissed. “Words alone aren’t worth anything. Stand by his side at his worst, clean his messes, wipe away his tears as he falls sobbing into your arms, and if after all that you can still say that you love him, I’ll believe you.”  
Satanick protested, “I can’t prove anything if you won’t let me see him!”  
“Nor can you do any harm.”

Defeated, Satanick sat on the castle steps.  
Vendetto sat down next to him with a sigh. “No dice?”  
“Nope,” Satanick mumbled.  
Vendetto laced his fingers behind his head and stared up at the sky. “... How strong are you?”  
The devil glanced at him. “Why? You gonna break in?”  
“Nah,” Vendetto said, still facing the sky. “I just thought, since we can’t help him, maybe we could bring the hurt to that prick.” He pointed vaguely at the scorching red sun.  
Satanick smiled slowly. “I like the way you think, kid.”


	17. Sunrise

He thought the Flame World was hot, but the heaven above it was absolutely scorching. Sweat made his clothes cling to his back, and he instantly regretted wearing a jacket. Vendetto swept his own off and balled it up into a damp wad of cloth.  
“And I thought Dad went overboard with the whole heat thing…” he muttered. “Let’s get this over with.”   
He shouldered his way through the heat haze, while Satanick dragged his feet behind him.   
Vendetto cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled, “‘Oy! Come on out!”  
Satanick rolled his eyes. “That’s not gonna work. You need something more like…” He paused, thinking, and then broke into a wicked grin. “Hey, fuckface! I guess only a cockroach can spawn more roaches, huh!? Y’know, I thought I liked you better, but your son is just as fuckable as you are, and he ain’t half so ugly!!!”   
A glowing spear shot through the air, landing between both of them in a narrow miss. Satanick smiled at Vendetto in a way that was half told-you-so and half we-are-screwed.   
Vendetto whirled around, spear in hand, to face the god. His face twisted in anger, and then fear.  
Siralos glared back. “Ugh, why can’t you little rats keep your infestation out of my home? I don’t have time to play exterminator.”  
Satanick’s smile hesitated. “Any chance you could spare us, then?” Vendetto elbowed him in the stomach for his cowardice, but he was nervous too.  
Siralos grinned. “Not even the slightest.”  
And the air was filled with sunlit needles.   
“Watch out, kid!” Satanick snarled. A shadowy hand rose out of the ground to knock Vendetto out of the line of fire, but it was too late for him to move as well. Blood sprayed like fantastically colored rain.  
“Messy, messy,” Siralos scolded. He wiped the blood off the lenses of his glasses with his gloved thumb, staining the immaculately white fabric. “And to think I had started to like you. Such a shame that you turned out this way, but birds of a feather flock together, and I guess trash can only collect more trash.”  
While the god was busy chastising Satanick—and Satanick was busy trying to keep his insides in—Vendetto had recovered from his surprise. He launched himself towards Siralos spear-first, a pointy demon missile of fire and rage.   
He hoped to catch Siralos off-guard.  
He felt his heart sink as those knowing orange eyes met his.   
“How rude. I suppose I shouldn't have expected that your father taught you any manners.” He grabbed Vendetto’s spear and held him up in midair by it. “Though you do show some promise. Perhaps I should’ve raised you myself.” He giggled and with his free hand summoned another spear to thrust into the demon’s body. “It’s a waste, really.”  
He tossed Vendetto to the floor in the form of a demon shish kabob and turned his attention back to Satanick.   
“Now, how to deal with you? Mmm…” His eyes turned skyward as he thought over the possibilities.  
Satanick didn’t dare move. The sun god’s sharp eyes would notice, and though Siralos feigned distraction, he still had a plethora of spears hovering around him at the ready.  
A few feet away, Vendetto squirmed and whined. Siralos’s attack had pinned him to the ground, and his scaled hands scrabbled uselessly against the glowing shaft sticking out of his chest. He gasped for air, felt his the warm smoothness of it nestled in his guts, felt the jagged edges of what was left of his ribcage scrape against it as pain rocketed through him. A choked sob escaped his throat.  
At the noise, Siralos’s gaze refocused on the two, and a sadistic smile spread across his face. He snapped his fingers. His sunlit missiles responded. Streaks of light shot through the air until there was nothing but the light.

“Igls, let them rot. But not out here. I don’t want them attracting flies.”  
“Yes, Lord Siralos,” the angel said as she descended from the sky on her glittering wings. Igls Unth ignored the warm liquid soaking into her clothes as she picked up the two bodies, one draped over each arm like nothing more than senseless meat. She ignored the soft pulse of life within them, ignored their noises of pain, ignored the tiny movements they made in a feeble half-conscious attempt to do something, anything.  
And when she had taken them out of the god’s sight, she ignored his orders.

Her brother was stupid to have questioned Siralos all those centuries ago, she thought, but he did have a point.


	18. Take My Flame

Vendetto’s eyes creaked open to a world that was mind-numbingly bright. His limbs shuttered, then stilled when he tried to command them into motion. Blood trickled down his throat, but he was too weak to even cough.  
A gloved hand brushed his cheek. “Don’t try to move, little one. Save your strength.”  
Warmth flooded his body from the contact on his skin, almost like when Ivlis healed his arms, but thousands of times stronger.  
“You’ll be alright, little one. The sun’s blood runs through your veins.” Igls smiled gently at him.  
“Who…?”  
She stood, and his hand grazed her leg as he tried to pull her back. “I’m not sure if I should call you Nephew or Brother,” she said with a soft sadness.  
Vendetto’s body, healed by Igls’s touch, finally listened to him, and he scrambled to his feet. “What does that mean?” he demanded.  
The angel shook her head. “It is neither my place nor my want to say,” she said as she moved to hover of Satanick.  
“You can fix him too, right?” Vendetto asked.  
“To an extent,” Igls said. She spread her wings, which glimmered along with her fingertips. “But he is of the night. The sun can heal, but it will harm as well,” she said like it explained everything.  
A glow lit up around her and the devil.  
Satanick’s eyes snapped open. He squirmed under the light, coughed, convulsed, retched thick purple blood. Igls made soothing worldless noises to him. She rubbed his back and tried to stop the worst of his shaking as she healed the worst of his wounds.  
And then she backed up, worry clear on her usually impassive face. “That’s… The best I can do.” She turned to Vendetto. “I’m sorry. He doesn’t have much time. I might have given him an hour or two, but… You need to get out of here. I’ll make up some lie for fath— for Lord Siralos.” She dipped a quick bow and hurried out of the room with the air of a child who knows she’s done wrong. But sometimes the wrong thing is right.  
Vendetto glanced at the door, then at satanick. He grabbed the devil’s shoulder and hauled him to his feet. “Can you walk?”  
“I’unno,” Satanick said, and spat. “Dumbass. Do I look like I can?”  
Vendetto glared at him; Satanick grinned a bloody grin.  
“Giddy up, kid, ‘n get us back home to Daddy.”  
“... Fine. Just… Never, ever call him that again.”  
“No promises.”

Ivlis may have been incompetent in most of his devilish duties, but there were some things that relied more on instinct than expertise.  
His head shot up at the feeling, some flare of power that was almost like his but not quite. He stumbled past Rieta—”Milord, where are you going?”—and out into the open. She followed him like a worried mother, and it wasn’t long before Poemi was drawn by the commotion and joined them.  
Ivlis squinted at the horizon. For a moment he forgot himself and his wings beat pointlessly at the air, and then he remembered. His eyes lowered in familiar disappointment, before returning to some spot in the distance.  
“Rieta, did you feel that?”  
“Feel what?”  
“That.”  
Without any further explanation, he continued forward with that same single minded-purpose. He didn’t answer the questions that both Rieta and Poemi asked incessantly.  
He did not, in fact, speak at all until they reached the top of one rust-colored dune. He pointed and repeated, “That!”  
At first he looked pleased for having found it, and then his expression contorted to one of fear and worry.  
“Oh. Shit,” he said quietly.  
He scrambled down the slope to the two forms crouched in the dust. Poemi darted behind, and then in front of him, crying “Venny!!” while Rieta tried her best to keep up with the two.  
Poemi hugged her brother tight when she reached him. He tried to make himself over her voice, “Dad, Dad, you need to help him!”  
Ivlis froze, and even Poemi stopped for a moment.  
“Hi, Roachy,” Satanick said. The words lacked his usual cheerful tune, and he couldn’t even muster the strength to smile.  
Ivlis dropped to his knees at the devil’s side.  
“What’cha lookin’ at me like that for, Roachy?”  
“Healing ain’t too different from making a life, is it?” he said. He held his hand out. A tiny flame flickered in his palm, thrashing and sparking like a much larger fire despite its side.  
Satanick realized what he was going to do, and the last bit of his composure broke down. “No, Ivlis, no, you can’t—”  
“I can.”  
An inferno consumed them. Ivlis gasped for breath as pain rocketed through his body; the fire burned his power so quickly. He dug deep for it, deeper, dug into the very power that held him together. The power that knitted his wounds, made his heart beat, lungs breathe, that kept him alive.  
Satanick grabbed onto his hands in an attempt to stop him. He knew that Ivlis could not afford the price of this pillar of healing flame, but the little devil would not stop. Perhaps he could not stop, and it had spiralled out of his control like a wildfire. Satanick could not stop it either, this power gushing from that battered shadow of a devil, so he did what he could do. He poured his own power back into Ivlis.

When the fire subsided, his first thought was fear. Fear that the devil had burnt out, had been consumed by his own flames, had turned himself into kindling for the sake of Satanick’s pathetic life.  
His second thought was relief when he saw that he had no reason to be afraid. The devil’s head hung low, eyes fluttering closed. He was exhausted, but alive. The rise and fall of his breaths was proof enough of that.  
His third thought was shock, because as he readied to take the devil back home, he noticed a small bundle in Ivlis’s arms. That bundle looked up at him his father’s bright orange eyes.  
But of course. Ivlis’s life-giving fire, Satanick’s dark power mixing into the glowing flames—of course that held the potential to create a new life.  
Rieta approached him, and he looked up at her with a question in his eyes.  
“Let’s take them back,” she said calmly.  
The baby demon gurgled. Vendetto took it from his father’s senseless grip. He cradled it in one arm while with the other he held tight to Poemi’s hand. Rieta helped Satanick hoist the flame devil onto his back, just like Ivlis had done for him not too long before. It felt like a long time, though.

“What will you name him?”  
“I’m no good at names…”  
Vendetto shrugged. “Neither was Dad. It’s not like it’s permanent though. Just name him after something you really like.”  
“... Licorice.”


	19. Preparations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, the dog is named Skittles

They had barely set Ivlis down on his bed with his new son before Rieta spurred them into action again.   
“Lord Siralos won’t stand for this,” she said ominously as she paced back across the floor.  
Vendetto stared at her blankly. “What does that mean? Is that, like… Code I missed while I was gone?”  
“No, it means he is going to be angry, and he will be coming here and we need to be ready.”  
Satanick couldn’t resist a snicker. “... Coming.”  
He got a smack to the back of his head for his trouble.  
“... Moving on,” Rieta sighed. “We don’t have a lot of time, so you all need to focus.” She put her oversized claws on her hips and looked at each of them in turn. “Okay, Poemi, get your dogs. Emalf, see if we have any familiars left. Vendetto, scrounge up any weapons you can find. You remember where the armory is right? Though there’s probably some just scattered around. And Satanick…” She frowned, and then pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. “Get some supplies from your world. Here’s a list.”  
He raised an eyebrow at her. “Why do you just have this written out?”  
“Someone around here needs to be prepared, and I’m sure you know that it isn’t going to be Lord Ivlis.”  
He looked over the list. “Fair enough, but this… seems… oddly specific to me.”  
“Who else is gonna help us? We aren’t exactly very popular.”  
Satanick shrugged and vanished with a snap of his fingers. The other demons scattered.

“I brought Skittles!” Poemi called out cheerfully. She patted the huge dog on the nose. “He’s the strongest!”  
“I found a coupla flame bats, though they don’t seem too effin’ helpful.” They fluttered around his head, and he swatted at them irritably. “Effin’ annoying though.”  
Vendetto dropped a mess of pointy implements on the floor. “The bats can be distractions,” he shouted over the clatter of metal. “You guys can use these, I guess. I already have my spear.”  
They all turned to Satanick. He shuffled his feet awkwardly. If even he was embarrassed, it probably wasn’t a good sign.  
Everyone except Rieta stared in shock at what he had brought from his world. Vendetto covered Poemi’s eyes.  
“Why.”   
“It was her list!” Satanick protested, pointing at Rieta.  
“Tailored to you. Now stop ogling. We have work to do.”


	20. Ivlis Protection Squad

Siralos simmered. Igls cowered in the shadow of his wrath, nursing her fresh wounds and bruises.   
He had taken out his fury on her, but she was more afraid now than she was before. His cold silence meant he was thinking. And nothing good could come of that.  
“... Igls,” he said.   
She leapt to attention, eyes wide with fear. “Y-Yes, Lord Siralos?”  
Siralos smiled, snakelike, cruel. In a slow drawl, he continued, “What do you think your no-good brother is up to right now?”  
“I know not, milord.”  
“Really. Angels are not supposed to lie, you know.”  
Igls trembled, “I am aware, milord…”  
“Good, good. Perhaps you can help me teach your brother a little something about proper behavior.”  
Igls bowed to her god. “Yes, Lord Siralos.”

Siralos was not the type to rush. He drifted gently to the world below, wreathed in heavenly light. The sands swirled and parted around him. Lava moved courteously out of his path. Igls rushed to follow him before the molten waves washed back into place. Like a king, he sauntered right through the castle doorway.  
“Eff, man, we really need t’ fix the door,” Emalf mumbled. His voice was steady, but his entire body was shaking and he clung tightly to Vendetto’s arm.  
Siralos smiled beatifically. “How nice of you all the gather in the same place!” he purred.  
Igls stared. Her eyes met Rieta’s and she shook her head frantically.  
If Rieta noticed, she didn’t acknowledge it. “Lord Siralos.”  
“Hello, little renegade angel,” he said, nodding at her. “... Maggotspawn,” he said to the others. “Where is King Roach hiding?” He noted Satanick’s absence, “In bed playing whore?”   
“Daddy’sh not a whore! You are!”  
Siralos tutted. “Such language for a little girl. I might need to shut you up.”  
“Poemi’d like to shee you twy! Shkittles, get ‘em!”  
Siralos was about to ask what, exactly, ‘Skittles’ was when something big and bristling and black and burning barreled into him. Skittles threw his head back and howled, an ear-shattering noise that made even Poemi cover her ears. Siralos wrestled with the dog, giant paws clawing and batting. He burst with light and sent the beast sprawling. Skittles whimpered and backed off, tail between its legs. Poemi wrapped her arms around its huge head.  
“It’sh okay, Shkittles… Shiralosh ish a vewy bad man!”  
“A very angry man,” Siralos corrected. He brushed dog fur off his clothes. His body was thrumming with barely controlled rage. “And I will squash every last one of you!”  
Emalf shrieked. He was scared, yes, but that was not why. At the sound of his shrill cry, a dozen bats plummeted from the ceiling to swarm the sun god. They bothered him little more than insects; he swatted them easily out of the air.  
Even so, it was distraction enough. There was a disgusting squelch of a noise, and Siralos suddenly found himself covered in a white goo. He turned slowly.  
Satanick grinned at him.   
“You. Are. Absolutely. Disgusting,” he said. His expression was somewhere between outrage and revulsion.   
Then pain.  
Burning, terrible pain, all along his body. Like his skin was melting off. Like agonizing heat that he had thrown a thousand disloyal followers into but had never felt himself. He hadn’t thought it was possible to feel it himself.  
Satanick smiled wider. “Sunscreen, bitch.”  
Siralos devolved into incoherent screaming. Igls backed away from him, speechless. Rieta moved behind her, and with strange tenderness, she covered the angel’s eyes and ears. She led her away from the god.  
Siralos clawed at his skin, trying to remove the sunscreen. In his desperation, his nails peeled off ribbons of flesh. With an outraged sob, and a noise that might have been a word, he shot back off into the sky, into heaven, to lick his wounds and salvage whatever dignity he had left.  
Vendetto blinked. “I… guess we didn’t need the weapons?”  
Satanick twirled his improvised squirt-gun around. It flopped over with a wet smack against his hand. Poemi obediently buried her face into Skittles’ side so she couldn’t see.  
“Honestly, I wasn’t sure that would work,” the devil confided.  
“Please throw that away.”  
“Eff, man, I don’t wanna look at it but I can’t effin’ look away....”  
Satanick laughed. “You boys wanna borrow some toys?”  
“NO,” they chorused in unison.  
“Suit yourself.” He stared at the thing in his hand, then grimaced. “... Okay, maybe you do have a point.”


	21. Flight

Satanick was exhausted. He had forgotten how difficult it was to take care of babies, not to mention that the things never really seemed to like him. Glasses had kept him up all night, but as soon as Lil laid a finger on the boy he would quiet immediately. He felt like it would probably be the same between Licorice and Ivlis. But Ivlis was fast asleep, and Licorice was wide awake. Rieta had warned him that it might be a few days before he recovered. As soon as he awake, Satanick was going to be the one who passed out for the next week.  
He bounced the baby demon in his arms and cooed to him, trying to get him to fall asleep for the umpteenth time. Right as he thought he was about to succeed, Licorice snapped back to full, wailing alertness when a feminine voice echoed through the room, “There’s no way I’m going to let you go back to him!”  
“But I cannot stay here forever. And the longer I delay…”  
“At least wait until he’s cooled off a bit! I’m sure we can work some sort of negotiations out. I think Ivlis has earned some sort of alliance for being the local punching bag, so even if Siralos won’t listen us, he’ll have to listen to the likes of Reficul and Etihw…”  
Igls smiled sadly. “I do not believe he would much care.”  
“We can at least try!”  
Satanick cleared his throat. “Excuse me, girls, but can you take this somewhere else?” For the time being, he had managed to stop Licorice’s crying by letting the demon use his thumb as a pacifier. He felt a sharp jab of pain as his son bit down harder and drew blood. He bit back a cry of surprise and the brief urge to punish him.   
“... I’m sorry, Mr. Satanick,” Igls said in a courteous whisper. “We did not mean to disturb you or your son.”  
“Don’t worry about it; babies are the only thing more fickle than me. He’ll be back asleep in no time. And then he’ll wake up. Then fall asleep.”  
Rieta cast him an apologetic glance. “I’m sorry I haven’t had the time to help out…”  
“You got your hands full. And it takes a lot to fill those monstrosities,” he said as he gestured at her claws and smiled wanly.   
“Glad to see your not too tired to crack a joke.” She smiled back at him. “We’ll leave you be.” She took Igls hand and led her up the stairs.

Rieta rested her arms on the balcony’s railing. “Like I said, Igls, you aren’t going anywhere until I’m sure Siralos isn’t going to...do anything.”  
“Do you really think that’s a possibility?”   
“I can dream, can’t I?” She made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.   
Igls paused. She watched Rieta stare up at the sky, then asked, “Do you miss it?”  
“Miss what?”  
“Flying.” She fluttered her wings self-consciously. “Father took yours, didn’t he?”  
“Just like Lord Ivlis’,” Rieta agreed. She gave one last look up at the black expanse above. Longing was written clearly across her face. She turned to the angel. “Yes, I do miss it,” she admitted.   
Igls spread both her arms and wings. “Hold on,” she said.  
Rieta blinked. Her eyes rested on Igls’ calm face, then her outstretched wings, then, much to her own embarrassment, on the angel’s ample chest. “You want me to… Hold onto you…?”  
Igls nodded.  
The demon took a deep breath and embraced the angel with care. She fastened her claws gently around the angel’s waist.  
“Relax,” Igls said and wrapped her arms around Rieta. She pulled the demon closer.  
Rieta felt the angel’s muscles move powerfully as she beat her wings at the air and took off. She heard the thrum of her heart and wings, ear pressed to Igls’ breast, and felt the warm pulse run through her own body. She turned to look down at the ground and felt the familiar rush of the thrill of flight fill her. She laughed into the wind as Igls swooped and dove and looped and rose. The angel took special note of what movements brought the sweetest ring of joy to Rieta’s laughter. With a final flourish and dip, she landed back on the balcony.  
She expected Rieta to let go of her immediately, but the demon still held on. Her cheeks were flushed with exhilaration as she looked up at the angel’s serene expression. She felt a sudden lightness, like a great weight was lifted off her shoulders, and before she could rethink or lose the feeling, she leaned up to kiss the angel on the lips, full and hard. For a moment, she feared she miscalculated, but wings curled around her like a soft shroud of warmth.   
Rieta pulled back to catch her breath. Then Igls pulled her back in.


	22. Spark

Poemi had been eager to help take care of Licorice. She took care of the baby demon with the energy and enthusiasm only possessed by a child who has stopped being the youngest and finally has someone to be older than. Despite her… eccentricities, Poemi was responsible when she needed to be. She was trusted with Licorice. It gave Ivlis and Satanick a break.  
And some time alone.

He was equal parts fascinated and repelled as Ivlis yanked his shirt over his head. He felt disgust, yes, that uncontrollable emotion that tainted his thoughts of the devil, but in that moment as Ivlis stared at him, doubt in his eyes and his lips forming the soft silent syllable of something unsayable—in that moment he realized. The contempt he felt was not for the devil, but for what has been done to him. What he himself had done to Ivlis, what everyone else had done to Ivlis, what _Ivlis_ had done to Ivlis. Satanick loved the devil. What he hated was the hurt.  
He shook his head at the question that danced on Ivlis’ lips.  
Ivlis lowered his hands from his belt and took a few hesitant steps closer.  
Satanick started at the neck. He was more gentle than he had ever been in his life. His lips brushed against the scars in the faintest of kisses, a flutter of butterfly wings. Ivlis dug his claws into Satanick’s back and held his breath.  
The devil continued down, pausing to plant a kiss on each of the starburst scars left from Siralos’ spears. He stopped at the hem of his pants. His breath ghosted along Ivlis’ skin, and he felt the claws in his back clench in what could be either anticipation or fear.  
He did not keep going. Satanick straightened to his full height, his hands sliding up so that his fingers rested in the notches of Ivlis’ spine.  
“I love—” he started.  
“Shh.” Ivlis’ scaled finger pressed against his lips. “Don’t say it,” he whispered, afraid. Afraid that when Satanick spoke the words, he would find them untrue. Like a wish not meant to be spoken aloud, the words would end this impossible dream. He wasn’t ready to wake up.   
Satanick nodded silently. Ivlis moved one hand to the back of Satanick’s head, bending it toward him, closing the gap of the few inches Satanick had above him.   
Ivlis kissed him.  
Their teeth clacked together, that wasn’t right was it? but too late, it’s already done. We’re doing this.  
Satanick tasted ash, tasted the tang of blood and for a moment he feared the devil in his arms was ready to just crumble and die. The next moment, those thoughts were wiped away. Ivlis’ tongue burned in his mouth like an ember. It hurt, but Satanick did not mind. That fire inside him was proof that the flame devil was not yet extinguished.  
Ivlis, on the other hand, tasted booze. There was another, more unpleasant flavor, but it didn’t matter to Ivlis. The alcohol that filled Satanick’s mouth just whispered to him: burn.  
Crack, sizzle, pop, the smell of cooking meat. Ivlis realized what was happening and tried to pull away, but Satanick held him in place.  
“It’s okay, little devil,” he whispered. Ivlis could feel every movement if his mouth, could taste every syllable. “I’ll live. So burn, burn, burn. Burn bright. You’ll outshine the sun.”


	23. Bonus: Envi’s Lessons of Unrequited Love

Envi tapped his fingers on the windowsill and waited. He felt like he was waiting a lot nowadays, but there wasn’t much else to do. He and Kyou had filled out all their paperwork for the day and filed it away, and the other demon had already gone home to his wife.  
The halls felt huge and cavernous and lonely without Satanick blustering his way through. He was just one man, but he could fill a lot of space with his shameless pranks and loud laughter. He wasn’t around much anymore.  
Envi sighed and shook his head; well, at least the devil was happy. That was the important thing. He had accepted that he simply wasn’t the right person to do that job. It was Ivlis that really brought Satanick to his bubbly, boisterous self, and it was Ivlis that could handle it. Envi wasn’t jealous of that part. He knew his boss could be a little...out there.  
And besides, what would be the point of having Satanick all to himself if he wasn’t happy? Even if it wasn’t with him, Envi still felt a flood of contentment when he saw Satanick’s smile.   
Yes, he loved Satanick.  
No, Satanick did not love him back.  
But Envi had done his best to leave his namesake emotion behind. He played his own important role in the devil’s life.  
And neither Ivlis nor Satanick minded indulging him from time to time.  
So, as he stared through the glass at the two devils in the street, he found himself smiling. He wanted the best for his love, even if the best was not him. It didn’t mean he was out of the picture entirely.


End file.
